


Who Needs a Recruitment Speach?

by NeverHadThePlot



Series: Pick me up and piece me together [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Bullying, Dom/sub, M/M, Recruitment, Sub Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 12:05:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverHadThePlot/pseuds/NeverHadThePlot
Summary: The Black Widow hijacks Clint's mission. Phil gives him permission to recruit her.





	Who Needs a Recruitment Speach?

Phil was busy working on an upcoming mission to recruit or terminate The Black Widow, so he sent Clint on what was supposed to be a milk run with the junior agents. He had to remove his collar for the first time since they put it on. The mission did not go well.

Clint stormed into Phil’s office and threw himself at his Dom’s feet, curling his arms around his legs and burying his face into his thigh. Startled, Phil stared down at his sub and his shoulders shook and a sob raked through him. “Clint?” He asked gently, running a hand through his hair. The sub stilled at the touch, “what happened?”

Clint didn’t respond, just hugged Phil’s leg tighter. “C’mon Little Bird, I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Jenkins,” Clint mumbled against his leg. 

Phil’s hand stilled in the subs hair as he tried to control the flash of anger that rocketed through him, “What did he do?”

“He was the mission leader. Took over as my handler when Smith got shot. He made me- made me sleep with the m-m-mark to distract him while the others infiltrated the lab.”

“I am going to kill him.” Phil growled and Clint flinched at the tone. He made an effort to rein in his anger; it wasn’t aimed at Clint, after all. 

“I’m sorry sir. I’m so so sorry, please don’t p-punish me.” Clint started begging, trembling against his legs.

“Punish you? Why on Earth would I punish you Clint?”

“I b-broke our c-contract, I s-slept with an-another man sir.” Phil sighed and tilted the subs head back so he could look him in the eye.

“Did you want to sleep with that man, Clint?”

The subs eyes widened, “NO! No sir, please, I didn’t want to I swear I-”

“Shh,” Phil smiled at him gently and wiped the tear tracks away with the pad of his thumb, “I’m not mad at you, Little Bird, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is Jenkins’ fault, he was your handler, he should know your file backwards. He should know you don’t do those kinds of missions.” Clint had been abused too much in his past to make it a viable option. “I’m going to take care of it so you never have to work with him again, okay Baby Boy?”

“Yes Sir.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat and whispered, “thank you sir.”

Phil smiled at him gently, “Have you been to medical yet?”

Clint paled, “No sir. Please, please don’t make me go out there right now, I don’t- I can’t- don’t make me leave you sir.”

“Okay Clint. You’re okay.” Phil stroked the side of his face to calm the sudden panic attack. “Do you have any injuries that need immediate medical attention?”

“No Sir.”

“Okay, we can get your medical later, okay?”

Clint blew out a shaky breath, “Yes sir, thank you sir.” 

Phil smiled and bent down to kiss the subs forehead, “You’re welcome sweetheart.” He rooted around in his draw to find the wet wipes in there. “Close your eyes.” Clint complied and Phil carefully cleaned Clint’s face. “There’s my boy.” He said when the dirt and grime was gone. He stroked his cheek and Clint gave him a watery smile, “Do you want your collar?”

“Yes, please sir.” Clint nodded eagerly and it warmed Phil’s heart. Clint bared his neck for Phil to clip the purple leather back around his throat, then he leaned down to kiss the sub gently. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You are most welcome, beautiful boy.” Phil pulled him up into his lap and cuddled him closely. “Do you want me to take your hearing aids out?”

“No sir,” Clint shook his head against Phil’s chest, “I want to be able to hear you.”

“Okay Baby Boy,” Phil stroked his back gently.

“Could you blindfold me instead, sir?”

“You want me to?”

“Please, I just want to kneel by your side for a while sir.” Clint whispered.

Phil held him closer for a moment, “Okay Little Bird, get yourself settled.” Clint lowered himself back to the floor and tilted his head so Phil could fasten the blindfold. He leaned down to kiss the subs forehead, “you just make yourself comfy baby, let me know when you’re ready to go to medical.”

“Thank you, sir.” Clint leaned he forehead against Phil’s thigh and relaxed. Coulson went back to his paperwork, petting the sub with his free hand. As he worked he kept thinking about the look of utter devastation on Clint’s face when he stormed into the office and he had to stop to take a deep breath, reining in the anger that surged through him. Jenkins was going to pay.

…

“Um, we have a problem Sir.” Hawkeye murmured through the coms.

“Report, Agent.”

“The Black Widow just killed our target.” 

“How do you know it was The Black Widow?” 

“I know her, Sir.”

“What?” Coulson demanded, glad they were on their private com, “How the hell do you know The Black Widow?”

“No time, ask me about Budapest sometime Sir, permission to pursue?”

“Is she going to kill you?” Phil growled.

“Negative, she put too much work into keeping me alive. Permission to pursue, I believe we can recruit her Sir.”

“How do you know?”

“She sent me one of our old signals before she killed the target.”

Phil blew out a breath, “Fine, proceed with caution, do not remove your tracker. If I don’t hear from you in the next twelve hours I’m coming looking for you.”

“Affirmative Sir.”

“Be careful, Clint.”

“Always am Sir.” Clint switched the com off and traced the woman into an alley before rappelling down the wall. “Hey Tasha!” he called to the red head leaning against a dumpster.

“I knew I smelt your handiwork in this Eban’ko.” She tossed the arrow he’d shot through the window at him.

He caught it easily and smiled, “Aww, I missed you too Suka. S’pose I should thank you for taking out my target?”

Her lip twitched, the equivalent of a full body laugh for Tasha, “You suppose correctly.” She tossed him the information stick she was holding, “target had that in his pocket, you’ll probably need it for your keepers.”

He rolled his eyes, “they’re not my keepers.”

“Is that, or is that not a collar around your neck Misha?” Her eyes danced at the blush that crept across his face and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, so yeah, but that doesn’t make SHIELD my keepers, I can leave whenever I want to.” He protested.

“Are they watching us now?” She asked, suddenly serious.

“No, but they can track me.” She nodded, “What are you doing here Tasha?”

She answered his question with another of her own, “Are you happy with SHIELD Clint?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life Tasha, but SHIELD, they tell me who I’m shooting, and why. They listen to me if I think it’s the wrong decision. They gave me a roof over my head and three square meals a day.” He told her earnestly. 

She nodded, “And your Dom?”

Clint’s whole face softened, “He’s the best man I’ve ever known Tasha.”

“You trust him?” She prodded.

“With my life.” He responded immediately, earnestly and she nodded. During their time together Clint had always been her human compass, he was careful with his heart after everything he’d been through. If Clint trusted this man, then he had earnt that right.

“He works for SHIELD?” 

“Yes, he’s here, he’s my handler. He cleared me to recruit you.”

She raised an eyebrow, “how long?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “Twelve hours. He worries.”

She smiled, “Are you going to give me the recruitment speech then?”

“Nah, I’ll leave that to him, if you’re coming?” he stood from where he’d been leaning against the wall and half turned, looking back to watch her.

She stood to follow him, “Shouldn’t you take my weapons or something?”

“Last time I borrowed one of your knives you stabbed me with it.” 

She bumped her shoulder against his, “I told you, no one touches my weapons unless I hand them over.”

“Hand them over then, if you don’t want Phil to shoot you.” She rolled her eyes and started pulling weapons out of her cat suit and boots as they walked back to the surveillance van. “Why’re you doing this Tasha?” He asked again as they rounded the corner.

“I don’t want to be on my own any more Misha, and you seem happy with SHIELD. Happier than I’ve ever seen you, actually.”

He nodded and smiled brightly, “I am. I’m glad you’re here Tasha, I missed you.” 

She didn’t reply as Clint paused and knocked on the side of a white van. The door slid open and a balding man in a crisp suit stepped out, eyes on The Black Widow. Clint bowed his head slightly as he spoke, “Sir, this is Natasha Romanov, aka The Black Widow. Tasha, this is my Handler, Agent Phil Coulson. She wants to join us, Sir.”

The agent’s eyes flickered to his sub, assessing for damage, seeing none he turned back to the assassin. “Why do you wish to join SHIELD, Miss Romanov? You’ve made quite a name for yourself out there on your own; you have no need of an organization such as ours.”

“I tire of being alone. It would be nice to have backup once in a while if something goes wrong. Clint tells me I can trust you.” She responded coolly and Clint wondered briefly at the fact his only two friends are barely capable of showing emotions. He supposed it was handy, in their line of work.

“What makes you think that I would trust you?” He crossed his arms.

“Because you trust Clint. He wears your collar,” Coulson raised an eyebrow at this, surprised Clint had told her. He wondered how well his sub really knew the Widow, “Clint would not trust anyone with his heart without good reason. You trust his judgement, and he trusts me.”

“Clint?” Phil asked, looking his sub in the face for the first time since he’d arrived. “You trust her?”

“As much as I trust you, Sir.” Widow tilted her head curiously at the expression those words elicited on the agent’s face, he must know how hard it was to win Hawkeyes loyalty.

“Very well. You will still have to go through the same induction and training process as any of our other agents Miss Romanov, subject to the Directors approval, of course.” She nodded, “I’d have you cuffed, but knowing the rumours of your capabilities you’d be out of them before you sat in the van.”

Clint grinned, “This is going to be fun.”

Coulson cuffed the back of the subs head, “Get in the van Agent.” His voice full of fond amusement, “And watch our new asset.”

“Sir Yes Sir,” Clint saluted, pecked his handler on the cheek, then jumped in the van before he could hit him again. “C’mon Tasha.” He called, she raised an eyebrow at Coulson who shook his head and moved round to the driver’s seat. She stepped into the van and Clint shut the door behind her.

“Where’s the rest of your team?” she asked, sitting in one of the chairs at the surveillance desk.

“We’re it. Strike team Delta. They send us where they can’t send everyone else.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow, “So why were you here? Surely this mission was a milk run.” 

Clint giggled, “We’ve been stuck at headquarters for a few weeks and the Director was fed up of the complaints he kept getting from the junior agents about being hit with nerf arrows in the corridors. For some reason they all thought it was me. So he sent me out here to burn off some steam. Which didn’t really work, thanks to you.”

“You shoot people with nerf darts, and they don’t kick you out?” she asked, incredulous.

“They don’t have any proof that was me,” he said innocently. “Besides, if the baby agents can’t cope with a few foam darts, they got no business in the field. I think that Fury secretly agrees. If he really cared, he’d have Coulson order me to stop.”

“And you would, just like that?”

“He’s my Dom, and my Handler, if I can’t follow his orders then I really do become more of a problem than my archery skills are worth.” He then signed to her ‘I wouldn’t risk my relationship with Phil for anything.’

“Oh, I don’t know Misha, you might still be more trouble than you’re worth.” She joked.

“Shut up asshole, I know I saved your butt just as much as you saved mine in Budapest.”

“You did.” She agreed.

Phil smiled as he listened to their easy banter through the thin cab wall. There was more to The Black Widow than meets the eye, it would seem. She was right, he did trust Clint’s judgement and he had seen enough of the sub to know he would never risk the people he cared about with something like this. He wouldn’t risk Phil’s life by bringing a hostile into it, he wouldn’t risk Natasha’s life if he didn’t believe she would truly be better off as part of SHIELD.

He just didn’t know how to convince Fury of this.

Natasha was locked in the brig with Clint apologizing profusely. “Shut up Misha,” she rolled his eyes, “I knew this was coming, they’ll want me to prove myself before they give me any lee way, they only know my reputation. They did the same thing to you, did they not?”

“Well, they actually cuffed me to a bed in medical, but I see your point.” He blushed and she rolled her eyes.

“Go see your Dom, moron. I’m fine.”

“Yes Mom.” He drawled, but winked and skipped away.

Shaking her head Natasha took a seat on the hard bed to wait.

…

Clint took his usual route through the vents to get to Phil’s office, wanting to avoid the other agents. He thought having his collar would make them more amenable to him, but it hadn’t. In fact, several agents who hadn’t ever even glanced his way now saw fit to glare at him openly. Self-righteous with their knowledge that he was Coulson’s sub. So naturally his last year of hard work to rise through the ranks had nothing to do with his skills, but merely Fury promoting him to keep Phil happy. He shook off the dark thoughts. Clint would happily be glared at by the other agents, if it meant he could go home and snuggle with Phil at the end of every day.

He slid into Phil’s empty office and settled himself into the couch to wait. He was probably in a meeting with Fury since they’d brought home an unexpected guest. He filled out his after action report, and another report explaining his relationship to Tasha, how they met and why he trusted her along with the skills he knew she had. He left out the personal details. That was her story to tell, he wouldn’t betray her trust that way. He placed both reports carefully on his desk, then settled back into the couch. He could be patient, when he knew what he was waiting for.

He woke up to the feel of a hand caressing his face. “Hey Little Bird,” Phil whispered, smiling as he watched Clint blink blearily.

“Phil?” Clint mumbled, automatically leaning into the touch as he rubbed at his eyes.

There was a warm chuckle, “Yeah, come on baby, it’s time to go home.”

“What time is it?” he asked, stumbling to his feet.

“Eleven.” Coulson replied as Clint’s stomach rumbled, “I’m sorry, have you not eaten? How long have you been here?”

“Was waiting for you, Sir. Fell asleep.” Phil didn’t have the heart to berate him for missing a meal, even if it was one of their conditions that resulted in punishment.

“Okay, we can grab a Chinese on the way home, okay?” Clint nodded and shuffled out of the office.

“Is everything okay, Sir?”

“I think so; I’ve been interrogating Miss Romanov with the Director all evening. He seems happy that she genuinely wants to join. But she will remain in the brig for a few more rounds of interviews.”

“She’s okay, right Sir?” 

Phil quirked his lips, “She told me to tell you to ‘Shut up Eban’ko, I’m fine, go home and make your Dom some cookies’ she also told me to tell you you’d better save her some.” He wrapped an arm around Clint’s waist and led him towards the elevator, “I have to say, your cookies are one of my favourites. She seems to know you pretty well, although I don’t understand why all your pet names for each other are insults.”

“I’ll tell you about it when I’m not about to fall asleep.” Clint bargained, and Phil chuckled, “Okay Sweetheart, I can live with that, let’s get some food into you and then you can go to bed.”

“Sounds like a plan to me Sir.”

Later that evening when Phil pulled the sleepy archer into his arms beneath the covers he murmured, “Thank you, Sir.”

“What for, Baby Boy?” Phil asked, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s shoulder.

“Letting me bring Tasha in. For not making me kill her. I know that was the op you spent the last week organizing.”

“If you knew, then why didn’t you tell me you knew her?” He asked gently.

“Was going to after today’s op. I didn’t know you were working on it till I saw her name poking out of your briefcase this morning- I didn’t read the file, but what else could it have been.”

“Okay, but you know I’d never ask you to do something you weren’t comfortable with Sweet Boy?” 

“I know Sir, s’why I was gonna tell you.” He wriggled closer into Phil’s embrace. “M’na sleep now. Love you.” 

“I love you too Little Bird.” Phil carefully removed Clint’s hearing aid, then kissed the soft spot behind his ear. The sub let out a happy sigh as he drifted into sleep. Phil smiled as he followed suit.

…

It was a few weeks before Clint was allowed to see Tasha again. Phil sent him on a couple of milk runs with Sitwell to keep him out of trouble while he was interrogating his friend. He went to hand his report over to Phil and retrieve his collar. “Hey Sir, how’s it going?”

Phil looked up from his report to smile at his sub. “About as well as can be expected,” he said, accepting the folder he was handed. “How was your mission?”

“Cake walk, Jasper spent the entire time trying to convince me to bake him some scones.” Clint grinned, kneeling so Phil could clip his collar back on.

“Are you going to?”

“Maybe,” Clint shrugged, “See how I feel when I get home.”

“Fair enough, though Miss Romanov still seems quite adamant that you bake her some cookies.” Phil ruffled Clint’s hair and he laughed.

“My cookies are magical. How is she doing? Can I see her yet?” 

“She’s doing very well; she’s passing basic training with flying colours. She needs a different training partner though; the junior agents are no match. Fury wants to know if you’ll do it.”

Clint laughed again, “I’m no match for her either Sir.”

“You’re one of our best agents at hand to hand combat.” Phil protested and Clint grinned.

“Who do you think taught me to fight?”

Phil filed that piece of information away for another day. “Are you telling me you don’t want to be her sparring partner?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No sir,” Clint jumped to his feet, “Just pointing out she’s going to kick my ass.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Clint Barton?”

“What?” Clint blinked. 

“You’re always shouting about your skills.” Phil commented and Clint blushed.

“Well yeah, but only when I know I can win. You haven’t seen her fight, have you? Tasha’s something else. You gotta know when you’re beat sir.” Clint winked and Phil shook his head, “If you say so. Go on, clear off. She’s waiting for you in the gym.”

“Yes sir,” Clint gave him a two fingered salute and left.

…

Natasha watched from the corner of her eye as Clint entered the gym. She noted the reactions of the other people in the room, predominantly male Doms. Many of them glared at him, a few smiled and nodded at him and several got a manic gleam in their eye.

Agent Lawrence sidled up to her and she gave him an appraising look. “That’s Agent Barton. Damn sub doesn’t know his place here. It’ll be nice to see the cocky son of a bitch taken down a few pegs Romanov.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “This Barton, he went through training same as everyone else?”

“Yes, bastard was top in his class in everything too. Don’t know how he did it, several people accused him of cheating, but nothing was ever proven. Subs don’t have the temperament to be field agents. Barton barely acknowledges he is one. Got his first handler sent to Alaska for his trouble trying to make him follow orders.”

Clint swaggered straight up to her with a warm grin on his face and she shook her head minutely. He winked to show he understood. “Agent Romanov, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise Agent Barton, I was informed you’re my new training partner?” there was an amusement in her eyes that only Clint could read.

“That’s right, I hear you’ve been wiping the floor with all the baby agents.” She merely inclined her head.

“Alright Barton, stop flirting, get that collar off and get on the mat.” Lawrence ordered.

“All due respect sir, but no one touches my collar apart from my Dom, not even me, unless it’s an emergency.” Clint’s eyes flashed as he challenged the older agent.

Lawrence just shrugged, “If she throttles you with it it’s your own fault Barton. I won’t be performing CPR for an insubordinate prick like you.”

“Noted Sir.” Clint turned back to Tasha, “Shall we, Romanov?” He bowed with a sweep of his arm. Natasha inclined her head her lips twitching.

As they prepared to spar they gained an audience. The Dom’s who had been glaring when Clint walked in surrounded the mat with matching smirks, clearly excited to see Clint on his knees, humiliated.

Tasha made the first move, feigning left then jabbing right. Clint blocked it easily and then they were off. Spinning, kicking, flipping and punching. Clint was actually surprised with how long he lasted before he found himself flat of his back with Tasha pinning him to the mat. There was a rumble of laughter through the room and Clint rolled his eyes, morons. 

“You’ve improved since we last sparred Barton.” Tasha said, climbing off him and offering a hand up.

“Oh come on Tasha I was a scrawny street kid with no muscle, I hadn’t eaten in three days and had a sprained ankle. I’d be insulted if you thought I hadn’t improved.” He whined shaking his limbs out.

She smirked at him, “I guess I can give you that. You still clench your fists before you kick-”

“Wait wait wait! You two know each other?” Lawrence demanded from the edge of the mat.

They glanced at each other, then back to the trainer, “Yeah, problem Lawrence?” Clint asked, smiling innocently.

“Oh for the love of God,” the agent threw his hands in the air and stalked away.

“Was it something I said?” Clint called after him grinning. The crowd dispersed with a few angry mutters and Clint turned back to Tasha. “I think we broke Lawrence.”

She cracked a rare smile, “I think he was a jackass anyway.”

“True.” He nodded, “C’mon, I’m hungry; we can spar when there are fewer morons around.”

“Sure,” she agreed easily.

…

The cafeteria seemed to go silent as they walked in, several heads turning to stare at the two assassins. Clint rolled his shoulders and seemed to shrug the glares off. Natasha’s eyes widened a faction and she suddenly found herself worried for her friend. They sat at the end of the emptiest table and the nearest people slid as far away from them as they could.

“What’s going on, Misha?” She asked quietly.

“W’ad’ya mean?” He asked around a mouthful of the sandwich he’d just bitten into.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Why does everyone glare at you?”

He sighed and shrugged, “they don’t like that I’m a sub and I rank above them.”

She tilted her head, “You don’t rank above all of them.”

“No.” he agreed, “But they all seem to think I should fall to my knees for them just because I’m a sub. They hate me because I refuse. They think that I should give them the power to control me, and because I don’t I’m some kind of abomination. Some shit went down the first few months I was here. I ignored some orders on an op to save the rest of my team. My handler at the time, he punished me and I dropped hard. I swore to myself after that, I would only follow the orders that made sense, I wouldn’t go to my knees for anyone save Coulson or the Director. When Strike Team Delta started a lot of agents resented me for skipping to level five from level two, they think it’s just because I’m Coulson’s sub that I got fast tracked.”

“I thought you said you were happy here?” she asked quietly.

He looked up, surprise flitting across his face, “I am happy here Tasha. I have a Dom who I love, and for some God unknown reason, he loves me too. I have a job I am good at with a handler who listens to my opinions and actually takes on board what I say. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly and a group of good friends- though you wouldn’t know it to see the people in this room.” She gave him a sceptical look and he sighed again, “Look, I’ve been an outcast my whole life Tasha. The people who care about me, they know the truth, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed after a long moment scrutinising his face and he broke out a brilliant grin. 

“Thanks Tasha.” 

“Yeah, whatever Eban’ko, now where are my damn cookies, I asked Coulson to get you to make me some weeks ago.”

He grinned, “Oh c’mon Tasha, I’ve been on back to back missions since I recruited you. I haven’t had time to bake.”

“Speaking of baking, where are my scones Barton?” Sitwell asked dropping into the seat next to Natasha with his own lunch tray.

Clint rolled his eyes, “What is it with you people and my baking?”

“First time Fury tried your cookies, he ordered me to marry you.” Phil said as he sat beside Clint.

“Really?” He asked curiously, bumping his shoulder against his Dom’s. The most affection they ever showed in public.

“Yeah, really. And since we’re making requests I’ve been craving brownies.” Phil commented. 

“Hey, I asked first.” Tasha butted in.

“Jeez guys, I don’t have time to bake so you’ll all just have to wait until I get a day off.” Clint protested.

“Actually you have tomorrow off Barton; we don’t have any missions that require your skill set for a week or so.” Phil told him.

“And you are just saying that so I’ll bake, sir.”

“You’re baking?” Maria asked, her voice brighter than usual as she plopped down on the other side of Sitwell.

“Oh jeez, I swear someone mentions my baking and all you worms come out of the wood work.” Clint threw his arms up, exasperated, “yes, apparently I’m spending my rare day off baking for these clowns, so put in your requests.”

“Cupcakes.” Maria demanded immediately. 

Clint rolled his eyes, mumbling, “A guy stress bakes one time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters... I'm just borrowing them for a bit.


End file.
